2. Kiley #2
Audrey and I laugh at his excitement. “Alright, let’s lock this place up and go.”
I grab my purse and keys off my desk, and we follow Zander to the door. Before closing it, I take one last look around the room, a feeling of satisfaction washing over me with how it looks. Whether I’m ready or not, school starts next week and I truly hope my students love their new classroom.
Fortunately, my school is not far from my dad’s bar, and within fifteen minutes, we walk into O’Shea’s Pub.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the bar compared to the brightness of outside.
The bar’s aesthetic is a mixture of vintage, old world, cozy vibes in shades of dark brown, with traditional bright green chairs acting as an accent color.
Dark, mahogany wood lines the walls with brown etched ceiling tiles and rustic brass chandeliers.
My gaze follows the black and white tiled floor to the back of the room where the expansive bar is, and I see my dad and brother behind the counter.
“Grandad!” Zander calls out and runs toward him.
“Aye, there’s my boy!” My dad hustles out from behind the bar in time to meet Zander in front of it.
He kneels down onto one knee and engulfs my son into one of his signature bear hugs.
My dad is known for his hugs—he brings you in close and squeezes you tight.
They’re genuine hugs that he generously gives out, even to strangers. “What’s the story for today?”
“I went with Mommy to school and helped put books on her shelves.”
“Did ye get a reward for helping your ma?” My dad gives him a knowing look.
Zander looks up at me, waiting for my response. Smart kid, I think, and give him a smirk. “No, Zander has not gotten his reward yet, Dad.”
“I got ya covered,” he tells me and pulls out a soft puff peppermint from his pocket.
Part of my father’s daily routine in the mornings is filling his pockets with soft puff peppermints and handing them out to people as the day goes on.
He’s been doing it ever since I was a little girl.
He hands Zander the peppermint and then retrieves one for himself.
Once they get the candy out of its wrapper, my dad touches his to Zander’s and says, “Sláinte” before putting it in his mouth.
He grabs Zander’s hand and they walk over to the trash can to throw away their wrappers.
“What’s up, little dude?” Keegan holds out his fist for Zander to bump.
After fist bumping with Keegan, Zander’s eyes go wide as he takes in the place and starts looking around. “Wow,” he marvels before his gaze lands back on me. “This place is cool.”
“Come on, lad. Let’s show you around.” My dad leads Zander down a hall to start their tour.
“About time you finally brought him in,” my brother mumbles to me, causing me to roll my eyes. “What?” He questions my gesture. “He needs to know about it. Someday he’ll inherit this place.”
I frown at him. “Why wouldn’t your children be the ones inheriting it?”
“Because I’m never having children, that’s why.”
“Ha!” I bark out a laugh. “Never say never, especially if you’re sexually active and only using condoms,” I comment dryly, since that’s exactly what happened to me.
A one-night stand with a sexy stranger using what we thought were perfectly intact condoms, and here I am five years later.
I haven’t had sex since, nor have I seen Zander’s dad since that night.
I’m always on edge when I work my bar shifts because that’s how we met, but then I remember that he isn’t even from Chicago.
He’s an architect from Boston, and he was visiting Chicago for work.
His name is Patrick, and I fell instantly for that wicked charm and Bostonian accent.
Zander is my constant reminder of that night, especially since he inherited Patrick’s hazel eyes and dimples in his cheeks.
Keegan pats me on the back with a fake, sympathetic expression. “Your situation has been the best form of birth control.”
My mouth drops open. “Wait, you haven’t had sex in five years?”
He scoffs. “Of course I have. I’m not a spinster like you. If they want this D,” he points down at himself, “then they have to be on the P.” He makes a classic 'tiny pinch' with his fingers to show the size of a pill.
I scowl at him. “Don’t ever say that again.” He throws back his head and laughs, and I shake my head in disgust. “You’re never getting laid if that’s how you ask women if they’re on the pill.”
“What’s so funny?” my mom inquires as she comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray full of food.
“Your son’s pathetic attempt at getting laid,” I answer back, and my brother hits me in the arm. “Ow!” I shriek, rubbing the spot of my arm he just hit.
“I don’t even want to know.” She shakes her head and puts down the tray of food on one of our larger tables.
I walk up to the table and survey what she’s made. “Why so much food?”
She gives me a sheepish smile. “I think we’re going to be here for a while. Did you bring Zander’s tablet?”
I really don’t like using an electronic as a babysitter for my kid, but sometimes, it’s necessary. “Yes, I brought it,” I sigh and take it out of my tote bag and put it on the table.
My dad and Zander reappear from their touring adventures with Zander sporting green beads around his neck. “Where did he get those from?” I nod toward the beads.
“He found them in the desk drawer and wanted to wear them.” My dad helps Zander onto a bar stool and claps his hands together. “Let’s eat!”
We all sit down, and I make Zander a plate of food before serving myself.
We make small talk first, with my parents asking Zander if he’s excited for kindergarten and then inquiring about the theme of my classroom for this year.
After about thirty minutes of us catching up, my dad nods at me, and I know that’s my cue to give Zander his tablet.
“Hey, buddy, the adults have to do some talking, so why don’t you put your headphones on and watch one of your shows?”
I get zero arguments from him since he’s rarely allowed his tablet. While I get him situated, Mom, Dad, and Keegan clear our plates and take them to the kitchen. Dad comes back out with some chocolate chip cookies and hands one to Zander.
“All right, what’s going on?” I question once everyone is seated and settled.
My parents look at each other, and my mom grabs my dad’s hand. “The short answer is if things keep going the way they’re going and with this new tax bill, O’Shea’s Pub is going to have to close.” My dad blows out a long breath.
“What? No!” Keegan slams his fist down on the table, startling everyone. Zander looks at me, and I give him a reassuring smile with a wink. Whatever is happening on the screen distracts him enough not to ask questions.
“Calm down, Keegan.” I demand and turn my attention to my parents. “What do you mean by ‘if things keep going the way they are’?”
“We met with our accountant, and he plugged in our current numbers plus last year’s numbers. If we earn the same revenue again this quarter compared to last, there’s no way we can survive next year’s property tax bill,” my mother explains while my dad nods in confirmation.
“So, we need to cut back on expenses,” Keegan responds. “With my current job ending, I can work more at the bar, and we can cut some hours of our other staff.” Keegan works as an independent contractor in construction during the day and some nights when he’s needed.
“I hate to cut staff hours. That’s their livelihood.” Dad shakes his head. “I refuse to do that.”
“We can stop serving food,” I suggest, looking straight at my dad. “Food is a big expense.”
Dad winces. “But people come here specifically for ale and Shepherd’s Pie.”
“I think they come more for the half pint happy hour and the atmosphere, Dad.”
He points his finger at me. “Your mother’s Shepherd’s Pie is world famous.”
“Not saying it isn’t, but what would you rather get rid of? The food or the pub?” I give him a knowing look and get a scowl in return. “Great, we will get rid of the food. Mom, you need to cancel any orders you have put in with the food company.”
“We’ve already paid for this week’s order, so I will warn them we are canceling service going forward,” she confirms while writing it down on her notepad. “But I’m afraid cutting out food won’t be enough.”
“Did the accountant tell you how much more money we need to be making to keep the bar running?” I ask, and my mother looks down and gulps before answering me.
“Two hundred thousand dollars.” My eyes go wide. “And we need to have it by April 1st of next year.”
It feels like a bomb has just been dropped, and the silence that fills the room reflects the severity of the situation. That’s a lot of money needed in a short amount of time.
“We need an investor,” I whisper, daring a glance at my dad.
“I will never sell out to big name corporations.”
“Dad, it isn’t selling out,” I start, but he holds up his hand, and I know the topic is closed.
“We need to get more bodies in here. Fall is when all four major sports in the United States are playing at the same time. We need to be open and advertise we’re showing the games,” my brother suggests, and we all nod.
I grab my laptop from my tote bag and open it up. “We need to create special events that will have the locals and any out-of-town visitors coming to us instead of our competitors. Let’s look at all the local professional teams’ schedules for the next five months and build out events around them.”
We spend the next three hours brainstorming all the possible ideas we can pull off that will not only generate the most revenue but can possibly save our family business.